


A Precious Gift

by TimeSorceror



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Custom Hawke, Multi, Non-Binary Hawke - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeSorceror/pseuds/TimeSorceror
Summary: Birthdays have been hard for Hayden Hawke since Malcolm's death. This is their first birthday since reclaiming their birthright, yet they don't seem to feel like celebrating. Anders helps. And then later, they help Anders in return.





	A Precious Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a discussion in the Weird Shit Discord about how it would be absolutely perfect for Anders to have a birthday in the spring and that tiny Anders would be running about with flowers in his hair while all the children in the village gather to help him celebrate his birthday.
> 
> That is not really the focus of this story, but it does play a crucial part. Enjoy.

Hayden loved their birthdays back when Malcolm had been alive. He would take them all out to a secluded spot in the forest and put on little magic shows for them in the early morning, and when the twins were still young and Bethany's magic hadn't come in, they danced and giggled in the shadows of the fairy lights, stumbling and falling headlong into the multicolored leaf piles.

Later, after Malcolm had died, their birthday became a more subdued affair. Mother and the twins would wish them a happy birthday before the start of the day, and sometimes there was a cake with candles. Sometimes. The year they spent in service to Athenril after they’d fled Lothering from the Blight was the worst, because it had come and went without fanfare. 

Mostly. Carver remembered, and that day he was a little less surly than usual for Hayden’s sake.

Then they went on the expedition. Carver was... gone, but not dead. With the things they had brought back after Bartrand’s betrayal, they had been able to buy back the Amell estate, and Leandra had gotten it into her head that she needed to throw Hayden a lavish party to make up for all the things they had lost. Hayden had seen the idea for what it was and just let her do it; they might not need a lavish party, but she did.

They doubted it would fix whatever was bothering her, but they let her do it anyway because they loved her and just wanted her to be happy.

* * *

So here they were, grousing in the darkest corner of the room they could find, watching as half of Hightown milled about, eating the finest food and drink that their mother had been able to cater, all while sharing the latest gossip of the Kirkwall high society grapevine.

Hayden lifted their cup to their lips and took a long drink from their glass. The wine was good, at least, though some part of their hind brain told them that they should probably stop drinking soon.

“Hey handsome,” said a voice that made their insides curl with warm affection, “what are you doing back here, moping about on your birthday?”

There was a pause, and Hayden blinked up blearily as they looked around for the source of the voice and finding Anders standing nearby, frowning. He was still dressed in feathers, but Leandra had insisted that if their friends were going to be coming to this party, then they were at least going to look like they fit in. Anders still stuck out, however, though it didn’t seem to be because of the feathers themselves. They were merely... striking.

“Maker, how many glasses have you _had_?” he asked, concerned. 

“Dunno,” Hayden replied, their speech slurred. “But prol-prop-prolly... shit. Ugh. Definitely too many.” They shook their head and shrugged, gesturing to the seat nearby. “Came to hide. Don’t mind your comp’ny though.”

Anders sat, still frowning, and they reached out to them gingerly with one hand.

“Hayden, what’s wrong?”

“Too many things,” they sighed again, suddenly just a tad more sober than they wished they were. Stupid magic, burning through that alcohol so quickly. “Mother thinks she can solve everything with a party. I wanna tell ‘er no, but I can’t take more things from her, I just can’t!”

Hayden sniffed wetly, and they heard a chair scrape softly across carpet before an arm was thrown over their shoulders and soft feathers tickled their cheek. 

“Oh Hayden. I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

_You are doing something. This **is** something._

Or at least that was what they wanted to say. What came out was something more like a soft whine as they turned to bury their face in the feathers to hide their tears. “I want–I, I want my–”

_I want my mother. I want my brother. I want my sister. I want my father._

_**I want my family back.** _

“Shhh,” Anders hushed him, and a soft pulse of magic filtered through the room that Hayden couldn’t identify. They lifted their head briefly to ask, “What?” very confusedly, but Anders just gently pressed them close and simply said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

And so Hayden clung to Anders and cried. No one saw them. No one came by.

It was nice. Anders’ voice filtered in through the distant noise of the party, soothing Hayden’s nerves. Anders was even slowly massaging little bursts of healing magic into their temples to relive the pain of their headache. Hayden couldn’t remember a time when they had felt so safe and cared for.

While Hayden was pressed against Anders, they listened intently to the story he told, a story about his past before the Circle. A rarity. A precious gift.

“I was born in the spring,” he began. “About halfway through Bloomingtide, if I recall correctly.  _Mutti_ used to braid flowers into my hair. White carnations, daisies, gerberas. They grew wild near our village, so there was _always_ plenty of them. _Vati_ would join _Mutti_ in the cooking, or well, he tried to. Sometimes _Mutti_ would just kick him out and shove us both out of the house.” Anders laughed, and it rumbled against Hayden’s cheek, filling them with warmth.

“That was usually when all of my friends would come to play. Some offered me gifts, or more flowers for my hair. Once, this girl who was sweet on me brought a bunch of ribbons and tied them to me and everyone wrapped them around me as though I were a Summerday pole!” Another rumbling laugh, an almost genuine thing that had him snickering. “That was the year before my magic manifested and I’d shot up like some gangly weed, so I could’ve probably stood in for a Summerday pole if I wanted to.”

Then he sighed and the laughter ceased. Hayden looked up and gently extricated themselves from Anders’ hold. He wasn’t quite done, though.

“ _Vati_ would always give me some wooden trinket that he’d whittled. A knight, a maid, a dragon. They were quiet detailed, I believe. And _Mutti’s_ cake was just... divine. I still remember the recipe. It had these... outrageous measurements. She always made too much, so I could share with the other kids in the village, because when I was little I had apparently insisted that if I was getting cake, then everyone should get cake. But some of the ingredients are hard to get in the city, so I haven’t... haven’t gotten the chance to make it again.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Hayden said after a while. And then they offered their story about their father’s little light shows in return, and Anders chuckled.

“Oh, if there weren’t all these people here, I would summon some fairy lights just for you,” he said. Hayden laughed and shook their head. “That’s–that’s not necessary, really. You... you gave me the greatest gift, Anders. A story from your childhood. I... I know that you do not often part with those.” 

They sniffed again and wiped their eyes as Anders’ earlier spell began to fade.

“Thank you,” they said, but Anders waved them away with a hand and gently pried their glass from their hands. “Maybe stick to the water for a while. Or the cider. I think it’s got honey in it, it’s very good.”

Anders stood up and Hayden stood with them, grasping one hand perhaps a little too quickly than was necessary.

“Wait. Do you mind showing me where it is? I think I could stomach returning to the party if you’ll do me the honor of sharing a glass.” Hayden swore that there was a flush to Anders’ cheeks at that, but he recovered quickly by flashing Hayden one of those fantastic smiles of his that hinted at the sort of man Hayden imagined Anders might be, in another life.

“Sure, Hayden,” Anders replied, linking arms with them and leading them back out into the light. “But I must insist that it would be _my_ honor to share a glass with _you_ , sweetheart.”

Then it was Hayden’s turn to feel the heat of flushed cheeks, but it was worth it enough to be able to go through the rest of the night with a smile.

* * *

Later, many years later, after Leandra was murdered and both Anders and Fenris had joined Hayden’s bed, the first fifteenth of Bloomingtide came and the two of them surprised Anders by waking him early in the morning with a box of flowers in Fenris’ hands, and a plate with a slice of cake in Hayden’s.

Anders recognized it immediately and burst into tears, and after he was finished he asked Hayden how in the world they’d known the recipe.

“I might’ve looked through your journals a few times when you were out collecting herbs,” they confessed. Anders didn’t have the heart to be angry as Fenris offered the red ribbon favor Hayden had given him in place of the usual leather tie that held back Anders’ hair. Hayden took it and tied Anders’ hair with it, and tied the flowers into a crown that they placed on Anders’ head.

“It’s too short to braid them in,” Hayden lamented, “but someday, I want to braid them in. I’ve been wanting to see you with braided hair for ages.” They tugged gently on their own braid while Fenris merely surveyed the scene with a sly grin.

“What’s with that smirk?” Anders asked, and Fenris laughed.

“You seemed a little disappointed after inhaling that piece of cake, mage,” he replied. “So I thought I should inform you that there’s more downstairs. Along with everyone else.”

“Everyone... else?”

“Our friends!” Hayden chirped excitedly. “Come on, they’re waiting!”

And so Anders joined them and spent the day joining in revelry he hadn’t known in a very long time. Even Justice couldn’t seem to bring himself to tear Anders away from it all. Mostly the spirit actually seemed to add to Anders’ happiness, being so impressed at the thoughtfulness of their lovers.

There were more tears later when Fenris offered him a little wooden figurine of a cat. “Why is it wearing armor?” Anders asked. Fenris shrugged. “I remember once that Merrill asked you who knighted that cat you mentioned... Ser Pounce-a-lot. She asked who knighted him, and whether or not he had a little sword.”

Anders looked at the figure, and the cat did indeed have a little sword, and a hat. Sweet Maker. That was when the tears came as he tried to thank Fenris, but all he managed to do was blubber incessantly. The elf merely took the figurine and placed it on the bedside table as the mage clung to him, crying happy tears.

Finally, at night, after a round of amazing if not slightly emotional sex, Anders asked Hayden why they had done all this for them.

Hayden’s answer was simple. 

“You gave me a precious gift once in a time when I was sad. And these days, you never seem to have much to smile about. I merely thought I should return the favor. Happy Birthday, my love.”

And from then on, none of them had an unhappy birthday ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> I tumble [here](http://timesorceror.tumblr.com/). Come say hi. :3


End file.
